Elf Song
[This short story was originally a part of my occasional series, Nancy of the Tenderheart, and deals with the elves of Scotland who had long ago, in a forgotten war, sacrificed their intelligence to save their race. It was written for a lovely girl in the newsgroups, from quebec and just about to have her first baby,Jany, I liked it there until my "machine translator" failed me on some slang and I insulted everyone there.]
There was a stirring in the ancient halls as every stone set into the heavy walls creaked and seemed to move slightly in its setting, candles flickered and even the animals housed in the stables outside the ancient castle went silent.
Throughout every hallway and room the atmosphere was alive with tension; it was as if something unseen was silently waiting, just below the conscious level, waiting to leap free.
Then at last it came, so softly at first that it could barely be heard, slowly growing in intensity until the very air throbbed with its presence. It was a song of angels, a song that had not been heard in a thousand years.
Images sprang from the music and filled the minds of the listeners, the birth of the universe, with stars springing into existence and spreading to fill the darkness of the heavens with pinpoints of light. They showed the beginnings of life, growing, multiplying, spreading across the barren lands, and filling the oceans. Massive trees grew from tiny seeds, and towered over animals that gave birth in their shelter. Animals of every kind began to multiply and fill the earth, and finally, the sound of a baby crying was heard.
Every woman who had been a mother began to weep soft tears of happiness. They did not understand the words, but they understood the feelings very well. It was a song of new life, of birth. It reached deep into their souls and drew forth the beauty that is motherhood.
All through the ancient castle the voices of a thousand women joined the song and although they had never heard it before this day, the words were already in their minds and their hearts, telling of their joy, their happiness, and then the deeper voices of the men joined singing in harmony with the women, adding the pride of fatherhood to the growing sound.
Rathalor guessed where the song was coming from, and as he entered his chambers, there upon his writing desk were his elves; their tiny heads lifted high, singing to the world. It was their song of welcome, and in the centre of their circle, was a newborn elf, the first in a thousand years, and as he looked in wonder, the tiny baby opened its eyes, and Rathalor saw in them what had been missing for so long from the race of Elves, intelligence.
As the song continued to swirl throughout the hallways, he named the tiny one Jany, a word that meant miracle in the ancient Elfish tongue, and he smiled broadly and let his own deep baritone voice join with the singers to welcome the tiny Elfish miracle to the world.
